


a place to call home

by holdenscoffee (spacebarista)



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: A Man and His Ship, Family, Found Family, Gen, post 2x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/holdenscoffee
Summary: After the chaos of Ganymede and the monster stowaway, Alex takes a moment to himself. Or, as much as he can when he's got the Roci to talk to.





	a place to call home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nourgelitnius (Ladysarah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladysarah/gifts).



> I started this a while back for Alex Kamal Appreciation Week and kind of lost inspiration. But I found it in my feelings about Persepolis Rising and just freaking banged out the ending. I really wanted to have Alex reflect on what had happened between him and Holden, and how he sees their little family with his own past behind him (no matter how much I want to pretend it doesn't exist like he does in the show). I hope I did him justice.
> 
> This is for Sarah, who is an amazing friend and deserves all the happiness and Alex she can possibly have. 
> 
> Please leave a review if you can. Enjoy! Thanks for reading!

The _Roci_ is quiet again. The monster is gone. The list of necessary repairs—lengthy and painful—is together. Alex sighs as the coffee machine hisses, scooping up his fresh bulb.

 

He thumps Amos’s good shoulder as he passes the table. Amos grunts, but doesn’t look up from his terminal. Focused on figuring out what he can repair himself. Naomi nearly bumps into him in some kind of rush. She gives him a weak smile as she ducks past him. Away from the medbay, towards her cabin. Not Holden’s. He doesn’t ask. As he passes the medbay himself, he catches sight of Holden still sat there, letting his leg set. He’s rubbing at his eyes, holding tight to the arm of the chair. Alex pauses at the door. Holden doesn’t look up. Alex continues on. He doesn’t see Prax. The good doc is probably holed up in his own cabin. It’s not quite normal, but preferable to the day they’d had leading up to it.

 

Alex steps up into the almost-as-quiet Ops deck. He sips at his coffee, bitter and strong. He ain’t sleeping any time soon. He doesn’t think any of them are. They’d almost lost Naomi and Amos on the _Somnambulist_. Then they’d almost lost Holden. On the _Roci_ for Christ’s sake. Part of him wants them all in one room, right here with him. Wants to be able to see them and make them laugh and know they’re okay. Kept busy with work so their minds don’t wander. But they need to decompress, and so does he.

 

So instead, he sits with his number one gal.

 

“Hey, honey,” Alex drawls. “Sorry I made you wait so long.”

 

He climbs up to the pilot’s chair, flops down with a sigh. He can’t sleep, but at least he can relax. He settles in, taking another long draw from his bulb as he studies the screen above him. The camera is still set to the cargo bay, though Holden’s helmet cam is dark. The torn-open doors show off the dark void they’re meant to protect the crew from. The crate that had pinned Holden to the wall is off camera, but Alex still can’t help looking for it. He sighs.

 

“You almost lost your CO today, you know.” He blinks up at the bulkhead above him. There’s no response. He tsks, looks back down. “I mean, of course you know. You were watching his vitals for us. Still. Was _that_ close.”

 

Alex listens to the beeps and hums of the ship around him. A small symphony just for him. He lives for moments like this: just him and the ship. The _Roci_ is the best of them, but he’s always looked forward to time alone with all of the ships that came before. They’re almost like some large creature; the way they hum and shift around him feels like breathing. Living. It’s what makes her too easy for him to talk to. That and, the fact that there are no arguments.

 

“I was so…” He huffs, gulps at his coffee. Looking for words. “I was so _pissed_ at him earlier. You know?” Alex runs a hand through his hair. “He was… he was gonna let Amos… let _Naomi_ die. Just like that. Because he had to stop that… that _thing_. I mean what the hell, right? What was he _thinking_?”

 

True to form, the _Roci_ doesn’t answer. She never answers. Not really. Alex breathes in the silence. Imagines what she _might_ say.

 

“Nah, I get that. I said something, he snapped out of it. I knew he would, I mean Holden’s not as big an asshole as he seems.” The _Roci_ beeps. Alex shrugs. “ _Most_ of the time. But… for a moment… it seemed like he really… like he was going to really do it. Keep going. Let them _die_.”

 

Alex lets the words linger on his lips and in the air. With everything that’s happened… it doesn’t feel like just over a day ago. It feels like weeks. Only the vivid memory of his heart hammering in his chest as he talked down a red-lit Holden, as determined as Alex had ever seen him, from the edge of the abyss. A place the man would never come back from had Alex not succeeded.

 

Alex sighs, rubs at his eyes. “He’d have never forgiven himself. Not once he’d snapped out of… whatever it is he’s got goin’ on.” He starts to lift his bulb to his lips before the thought strikes him. “And I’d never forgive myself if I let him do it.”

 

The _Roci_ says nothing. Not even a beep. The observation needs no agreement. Really, it should have been more obvious. It had only _partially_ been about saving Holden’s soul. When it comes down to it, really, deep down, it was about _his own_ soul.

 

Each one of them had come off of Eros scarred. At first, it had been just Naomi who had been haunted by the ones they couldn’t save. Haunted by that little girl she’d been forced to leave behind. But as Alex spent more and more time with the Belters they managed to get off Eros (at the time an unlucky draw based on one sick captain, one XO caring for him, and one disconnected mechanic in his own world leaving him the only one capable of taking on such a task), he realized that Naomi was right to be hurt. To be angry. They should have saved more.

 

And then they lost the breaching pod in the assault on Thoth.

 

It would be the last time Alex would lose anyone, if he had a say in it. So he made his voice heard when Holden let his anger blind him to what it would cost him. Refused to back down. Let his determination to save everyone he can battle it out with Holden’s determination to rid the system of the Protomolecule. His determination beat Holden’s fear.

 

He’d be more proud of himself if he didn’t understand Holden’s position. But Amos and Naomi are alive. Melissa is alive. The refugees. Holden and Prax. Alex.

 

All because he stood up to Holden. He deserves to be proud.

 

Alex sips at his coffee, trying to remember a time when he cared far less about any of these people, his crew. His family. He tries to remember what life was like when his world was piloting an ice freighter: arguing with Ade and Byers about how long a run could take on various speeds regardless of their navigating and backseat driving; testing how long it took to get McDowell of his back by throwing every Martian colloquialism into as many sentences as he could; going back and forth with Paj on how Mars’ advanced technology could beat any Belter spare parts; bothering Shed for as many painkillers as he could get. As much as he misses them, and feels a slight stab when he thinks of them, he never once considered them family. He _especially_ never considered Holden, Naomi, and Amos as anything more than a babysitter thought of their charges. Workers come and go. They were replaceable. Even him. Until the _Cant_ got nuked anyway. Hell, even after.

 

It wasn’t until the _Donnager_ , until the _Scopuli_ , until _Eros_ , that Alex realized that yes: this is his family now. Irreplaceable. Amos, with his deadpan, off-color humor, an uncanny ability to read anyone, quick to what he sees as necessary violence. Naomi, with her Belter realism, her technological genius, her tenderness and care that can fast turn to brutal honesty when pushed. And Holden with his tilting at windmills, his dimming optimism and transparency, his unhealthy coffee addiction, and a loyalty to his crew that nothing, not even his weight in gold, could break.

 

That’s how Alex had won him over. His loyalty to their little broken crew. _Our family needs us_. Something in Holden’s eyes told Alex that he would never turn his back on family. Maybe one day he’d tell him the story why. He hums.

 

“He figured it out though, didn’t he hon?” Alex snorts a laugh, looks up at the ceiling. “And he got what he wanted anyway. Almost died in the process… which… isn’t what I wanted. But he’s here. So’s Naomi and Amos.” Something on the Ops deck below whirs. “Plus one, yeah. The good doctor. Saved Holden for us. Kept our family whole.” He taps the side of his mug, watching the screen before him as it showed them on their present course to nowhere.

 

“Wouldn’t mind if he joined us, really. But we’re gonna save his kid. No smart man brings his kid on a gunship. Besides, Ganymede will need every doctor it’s got to recover. Botanist or no. It’s a nice thought, though.”

 

The _Roci_ makes a sound one might think of as mournful. If that “one” was one Alex Kamal. He doesn’t blame her. He’s gotten used to having Prax around. Taking him home wouldn’t hurt quite as badly as losing anyone from his crew. But it would sting.

 

Alex closes his eyes, lets himself sink into his crash couch. He could fall asleep here, surrounded by the hums and beeps and whirs of his gunship. There’s no regs, no pilot shift changes to keep him from doing so, not like when he was in the Navy. He’s free to enjoy himself in the one place he feels truly comfortable. There’s nothing but him and his ship. The moments tick by.

 

The distant sounds of doors opening and closing join the mechanical hums of the _Roci_. He pictures Holden headed back to his quarters alone, aided by the float rather Naomi. For whatever reason. More doors. Magboots in the halls. He can envision Amos slipping into the galley to dip into their alcohol stash one last time. Or Prax, exploring now that he’s trusted enough to be left to his own devices. Maybe Naomi, walking towards Holden’s closed door, hovering outside and willing it to open. The music of a ship on night shift can create all kinds of stories. He’s always loved it.

 

Nothing makes it better than knowing it’s the story of his new family. Only time will tell where it will go from here.

 

When he opens his eyes again, he sees the corner of a photo, peeking out from behind his station. A weight starts to settle in his stomach. His wife. Their son. He had had a family that relied on him. Loved him. He’d already failed them. They don’t even know he’s alive, a fact he’s been more than reminded of by everyone who knows. Maybe they’d find out, with Holden’s messages to Earth while chasing Eros, or his broadcasted threat to both Navies. Maybe they’d find out. Reach out. Maybe not. Maybe they’ve moved on and found someone better. Someone more grounded. Someone who won’t fail them.

 

He won’t fail this family. He’ll do better. He _has_ to. He closes his eyes again, takes a breath and the weight fades.

 

Alex lets himself drift to the sounds of home and the comfort of family, all his. All in his _Rocinante_.


End file.
